


A Garrison Christmas Mystery

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: After posting a Stargate SG-1 Little Danny Xmas mystery story yesterday it got me in the mood to do one, just a bit different for d'Artagnan and company.I hope you enjoy it. It's just a bit of fluff and fun.To all those that celebrate the season...Merry Christmas to all my writing pals and the ones that keep reading my stories as well and best wishes for a wonderful New Year too!See notes below++++





	A Garrison Christmas Mystery

_Musketeer Garrison_

"First thing on my list of things to get d'Artagnan for Christmas is a chapeau." Watching his young protégé currently having a snowball fight with Ugo, Athos' lips curled up in the corners. "That makes me feel old."

"The snowball fight, mon ami?" Aramis was of a mind to join the two younger recruits. What was age anyway but a number?

"That and our pup's youthful exuberance for life," was Athos' dry response.

"I think the whelp's brought the Garrison alive, is what I know," Porthos added. "I even 'eard a few palace guards talkin' about some of d'Artagnan's suggestions to Their Majestys on 'ow they could decorate for the holidays were seriously bein' considered."

"That's our boy," Aramis proudly crowed.

As the inseparables continued to watch their youngest at play, Père Lavoie came up to them wearing a most perplexed expression.

"Has something happened at the church, Père?" Speaking up first, Athos was surprised to see the priest's face light up with joy.

"I had been worried about our upcoming Noël services because of a broken manger," Père Lavoie said. "Lo and behold this morn I discovered a new one in its place beautifully hand-carved."

"Père Noël came early for ya, Père." Nodding his head at the man of the cloth, Porthos grinned.

"I bless our mysterious benefactor and shall say prayers at mass for him." Rushing off, Père Lavoie headed toward the chapel.

A stray snowball or two managed to miss Porthos who glared mockingly at the kid and Ugo. D'Artagnan sent him a sheepish look for nearly hitting him. Not so Hugo. That one made it seem intentional.

Noting Serge struggling with goods, newly purchased from the markets, the inseparables went to offer their services.

"Merci." Gladly relinquishing his parcels to the three men, Serge walked beside them. "They were getting a might too heavy for me."

"May I ask what delicacies you have bought?" Curious, Aramis tried to poke his nose in one only to be slapped up the backside of his head by the former Musketeer. Rubbing the sore spot, Aramis pouted. "I was merely trying to see what was inside."

"Aye, lad," Serge chuckled. "I know that. Just was afraid you'd spill the contents."

"So what's in them?" This time Porthos couldn't hide his own curiosity. Hoping it would be something Serge would serve up to them for the holidays, his stomach began grumbling.

"Well d'Artagnan had a hand in helping me come up with a menu for the week of Noël. Apparently they do it up right in Gascony, despite their hardships." Seeing that the men were waiting for Serge to indulge them, he winked. "I'll be making brouillade de truffes, roast capon..." listening to what he told them made even his own mouth water, "salad, peas, green beans, carrots and potatoes." Scratching his chin, he tried to remember everything he bought. "Oh there will be aigo-boulido too."

"Sounds quite a delight." Anticipating enjoyment to come, Aramis looked thoughtfully at his brothers. "Would any sweets be included in this veritable feast you'll be preparing for us?"

"Papillottes," Serge offered. "Perhaps I may indulge myself and make some tarts and cakes. Who knows where my imagination will take me."

 _Not far_ , Porthos thought to himself. He'd never known Serge to have much imagination before with the food the canteen served.

"Looks like we have d'Artagnan to thank for what sounds to be an excellent repast." Athos stared over at the young Gascon. Seemed like wherever the boy went he managed to change things for the better.

Dropping off Serge's supplies inside the kitchen, Porthos noticed the broken door leading out back was fixed. "Who'd ya get ta do that?"

"Tis a mystery to be sure." Serge shook his head. "Came in yesterday morn to find it like that. Tis been broken since that last fight we had in here."

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "Another one added to the good Père's."

"Come, mes freres." Pushing both Athos and Aramis toward the open door, Porthos was eager to leave. "Gotta see who whens the snowball match."

Approaching the site of the battle once more, Athos quickly ducked out of the way of a stray, white flying projectile.

"Sorry, Athos!" D'Artagnan shouted

"If we stay here long enough one of us is most likely going to get hit sooner or later." An amused smirk graced Aramis' features, whereas Porthos had a mischievous look on his own.

"Ah, there's the captain." Noting Treville coming down the steps from his office, Athos waited for him to join them.

"You're all off duty this morn so why aren't you having fun like those two over there." Having observed the snowball fight from his balcony, Treville thought he'd come down for a closer inspection.

"Cold enough without gettin' pounded on." Pretending to shudder, Porthos laughed. He was used to harsh Parisian winters and a few snowballs would roll right off his leathers. Rather, Porthos simply wanted to watch the whelp have some fun.

"Actually I'm on an errand to find out who repaired the cinch on my saddle." Stabbing Aramis with a knowing look, Treville offered the younger man his hand.

Staring at the captain's outstretched hand, Aramis was puzzled. "Oh! You think it was me."

"The stitching reminded me of your needlework, Aramis." Dropping his hand, Treville frowned noting honest confusion written upon the marksman's face. "You had nothing to do with it?"

"Gentlemen, it would appear another mystery has made itself known." All eyes turned on Athos at his remark. He simply shrugged one shoulder and proceeded to explain to Treville about the manger and the canteen's door.

Walking past the men, Bale heard their conversation and added to it. "Remember that broken stall that Zack's horse caused?" Gaining affirmative nods, Bale continued. "Someone's put new wood up and replaced it."

All four Musketeers stared at one another, unsure of what to say.

Rubbing his chin, Treville sighed. "That would explain Doctor Devereaux's puzzlement over his medicine cabinet."

"What was wrong with it?" Having last been in the infirmary, two days past, Aramis didn't remember there being a problem.

"The plaster came loose and the cabinet fell to the ground, cracking it and scattering about some containers of herbs that were within," Treville explained.

"Devereaux must have cleaned it up by the time I last visited," Aramis murmured. "So I gather something miraculous happened to it or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"Earlier today I was speaking with him and he told me that not only had the plaster been repaired but the cabinet had been fixed."

"Père Noël has been at it again I see," Athos quipped. Catching an odd look upon the marksman's face, he questioned his friend. "Mon frere, what is it?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," Spreading out his hands, Aramis let them drop loosely to his sides, "but it would appear our secret benefactor was behind my missing crucifix."

"The one your parents gifted you with?" Knowing something of Aramis' past history, Athos understood what that cross meant to the younger man.

"Oui." Gazing down upon the snow covered ground, seeing imprints of booted feet, Aramis smiled to himself. "Our last altercation with those malandrins on the road had the chain break. I left it and the cross on my night stand. Though I will admit to feeling naked without it." Touching his chest where the crucifix laid once again, Aramis' dark eyes misted over with gratitude. "Later that day it went missing. I looked all over and couldn't find it. Then we were assigned parade duty and I thought to find it later."

Holding up a hand, Athos could figure out how the rest of this story played out. "Then you found it back on your night stand fully repaired."

"Exactly so." Still fingering the crucifix, Aramis sent up a silent prayer of thanks once again.

"Since we are speaking upon the subject I might as well assign the fixing of my favorite leather chair to our mysterious elf," Athos remarked somewhat sarcastically.

"We went from Père Noël to an elf now?" Chuckling, Porthos was thinking of his bent dagger.

"Bien," Athos shrugged, "Père Noël can't be everywhere."

"When did something happen to your chair, Athos?" He didn't visit his men's abodes very often and heard about their woes even less unless he dragged it out of them.

"I've had it a long time and the leather started to crack in places. I've been meaning to have it repaired but have not found the time." Thoughtful eyes turned toward his protégé, who by now was covered in snow from head to toe but still found amusement in the situation. "On my return from delivering a missive for the king I discovered it had been taken care of."

"Whomever it is 'as ta be well heeled or 'as a lot of time on 'is 'ands." Still concentrating on what happened to his dagger, Porthos was hesitant to share his thoughts.

"Spill, mon ami." He could tell something preyed on his larger friend's mind. If anything, Aramis was good at getting Porthos to talk about his feelings.

"Ya know the dagger the captin' gifted me with last Noël?" Receiving nods of confirmation, Porthos took it out of his weapons belt. "The same fight where Mis' cross broke, my dagger got damaged." Holding the weapon out it appeared as it usually did, without a dent on it. "It was so bent outta shape I figured it would be useless to try and get it fixed. So I left it behind the next time we set out on a mission."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Athos began to believe this was becoming all too complicated. "I doubt you have to continue as we can all guess what took place next."

"Yeah." Holding the shiny dagger up, Porthos grinned at it. "Good as new."

"Gents," Treville grinned, "I'd say we count our blessings and make sure to give thanks during the upcoming Noël services." Blue eyes took in the end of the two lad's snowball fight. Noting d'Artagnan and Ugo coming over to them Treville asked, "Who won?"

"It was a draw, sir." Nudging the young Gascon in the side, Ugo laughed at d'Artagnan's eyeroll. "I'll see you later, d'Artagnan. I nearly forgot that I have to help Dacey in the armory."

"Then you better hurry along." His voice holding nothing but amusement, d'Artagnan held back from laughing. "We all know that Dacey has a short fuse." Observing Ugo racing off, d'Artagnan turned back to his friends and captain. "I apologize if our errant arsenal hit any of you."

"A few near misses, pup, but no damage done." His blue eyes twinkled at his young protégé. Taking d'Artagnan by the arm, Athos pulled him off to the side. "Child, we have all been comparing stories of the mysterious things happening this season thus far." Tilting his head, Athos studied the all too innocent expression on the boy's face. This was d'Artagnan's first winter in Paris and everything was new and a delight to the pup. The lad wasn't a Musketeer yet but Athos had no doubt that would happen quite soon. He had to wonder though if this was the youth's way of thanking everyone for taking him into their hearts. It wouldn't have surprised Athos in the slightest if his protégé turned out to be one of Père Noël's elves. "Everyone opens up to you, child. Perchance you've heard who has been doing us good turns lately?"

Backing away from his mentor, a shy smile gracing his olive-tone features, d'Artagnan ducked his head. Winking at them all, he strolled away singing a carol.

_"Vive le vent, vive le vent, vive le vent d'hiver_  
_Qui s'en va, sifflant, soufflant_  
_Dans les grands sapins verts, Oh !_  
_Vive le temps, vive le temps, vive le temps d'hiver_  
_Qui rappelle aux vieux enfants_  
_Leurs souvenirs d'hier !_

_Sur le long chemin_  
_Tout blanc de neige blanche_  
_Un vieux monsieur s'avance_  
_Avec sa canne dans la main_  
_Et tout là-haut le vent_  
_Qui siffle dans les branches_  
_Lui souffle la romance qu'il chantait petit enfant"_

Standing in the middle of his friends, Aramis gave a solid slap to Athos' and Porthos' backs. "I believe we have gotten our answer."

"Don't know when the whelp 'ad the time," Porthos said gruffly. "Gotta get the pup somethin' real nice ta put under our tree."

" _Tree?_ " A brow shot up so fast on Athos' face that it had Aramis burst out with laughter. "We are having a _tree_?" he scowled. "Since when?"

"Oh come off it Athos," Treville scoffed. "I know very well what you three have planned for d'Artagnan." Poking his lieutenant in the chest, he chuckled at the face Athos' pulled. "Don't try pulling the wool over these old eyes."

When the captain left them to catch up with their youngest, Athos' lips began twitching. "Nothing _old_ about you, sir." But his words were caught in the wind and blown away.

"I say we have our work cut out for us in gifting our pup with something special." Tipping his chapeau low over his eyes, Aramis sauntered off whistling the same merry tune the young Gascon was singing.

"Better get that chapeau right fast, Athos, before Monsieur Lael runs outta 'em." Before leaving to catch up with the marksman, Porthos threw his older brother a careless wave.

"Monsieur Lael knows better than to sell the chapeau I've already had put aside for the boy." Muttering to himself, Athos decided that perhaps a quick visit into the city wouldn't go amiss.

The End

++++

_Notes:_

_Père Noël_ \- Father Christmas  
_Brouillade de truffes_ \- Omelet with truffles  
_Aigo-boulido_ \- Garlic soup  
_Papillottes_ \- small chocolate candies wrapped in shiny paper.

The French song d'Artagnan sings is: _Vive le Vent_ (translation: Long Live the Wind, sung to the tune of Jingle Bells)

_Vive le vent, vive le vent, vive le vent d'hiver_  
_Qui s'en va, sifflant, soufflant_  
_Dans les grands sapins verts, Oh !_  
_Vive le temps, vive le temps, vive le temps d'hiver_  
_Qui rappelle aux vieux enfants_  
_Leurs souvenirs d'hier !_

_Sur le long chemin_  
_Tout blanc de neige blanche_  
_Un vieux monsieur s'avance_  
_Avec sa canne dans la main_  
_Et tout là-haut le vent_  
_Qui siffle dans les branches_  
_Lui souffle la romance qu'il chantait petit enfant_

Translation:

Long live the wind, long live the wind, long live the winter wind  
Who's going, whistling, blowing  
In the large green trees, Oh!  
Long live time, time to live, long live winter weather  
Reminiscent of old children  
Their memories of yesterday!

On the long road  
All white snow white  
An old man comes forward  
With his cane in hand  
And up there in the wind  
That whistles in the branches  
He blows the romance he sang little child


End file.
